


99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall

by FrozenHearts



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Attempt at Humor, Celebrations, Curiosity, Drinking, Drinking Games, Drunken Confessions, Elves, F/M, Gen, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, High Fantasy, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Battle, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Strangers to Lovers, Wingman Aragorn, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-29 16:13:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20799422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrozenHearts/pseuds/FrozenHearts
Summary: Eomer remembered how Legolas held an arrow in his face upon their first meetingWatching him now as he participated in one of Gimli's stupid competitions was rather enlightening.





	99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall

**Author's Note:**

> Eomer was totally checking Legolas out during the drinking scene in RotK you can't tell me otherwise
> 
> Of course he also looked genuinely curious but still

Eomer could remember how Legolas notched an arrow in his face upon their first meeting; pale dewy skin lit with an unknown fury as long blond hair flowed freely, making him look completely otherworldly in his anger as he uttered that single phrase:

"You would die before your stroke fell!"

At the time, Eomer didn't doubt it. Aragorn, the dwarf and the elf looked undoubtedly worse for wear, their clothes muddied and hair dirtied and bruised and bloody beyond belief. It had taken Eomer a moment to realize that the one who'd threatened him was an elf, as according to his and Eowyn's lessons as children, elves were a proud race, but rarely left their kingdoms. Even funnier still, it was common knowledge that elves and dwarves absolutely despised each other but here was an elf, defending a dwarf in the face of about thirty men or so despite it. 

Now, he and Aragorn were sitting a ways away from said elf and dwarf, watching in curious amusement as the dwarf challenged him to yet another contest.

"Do they do this often?" Eomer jutted his chin at the duo as a barmaid arrived with a tray of ale mugs, the woman smiling coyly at Gimli as he waggled his eyebrows.

Aragorn leaned against the beam next to him, a fond look on his face as he replied, "Only as much as our dear hobbits, my friend. Seems to be an ongoing trend."

Eomer sighed, watching as Legolas and Gimly counted to three before rushing to pick up their tankards and drink. As Gimli finished his first cup, a loud noise made Eomer jump and he turned his head to look: the four wee Hobbits had jumped up on one of the tables, dancing and singing to their hearts content, surrounded by his soldiers as they clapped and laughed along. 

"A Hobbit custom, to dance on tables," Aragorn smirked, "Gandalf informed me thusly."

"Quite the sight, they are," Eomer agreed, as he had never seen a Hobbit until today; where had they come from? What was their purpose? He watched for a few seconds more as the one called Frodo pulled the one called Merry into a jig, swinging their arms wildly as his soldiers banged their fists in time on the tables.

"Seems so," Aragorn quipped, as is Legolas, no?"

Eomer stilled, raising an eyebrow, "And may I ask where that notion comes from?"

Aragorn chuckled into his own drink; the man had sipped idly all night and had yet to finish it. 

"Merely an observation, my friend," Aragorn said. At the table, Gimli burped loudly, taking in hand what had to be his fifth cup. Eomer saw Legolas was only on his third, although Eomer found himself focused on the slight furrow of his brow as he sipped.

"And what have you observed?"

Aragorn didn't say anything, rather he sent Eomer an amused look over his cup as he sipped.

"Come, man!" Eomer nudged his side gently, "Surely you won't leave me wanting?"

"Come morning? I definitely won't, but Legolas might," Aragorn muttered, adding hurriedly as Eomer frowned, "I jest, I jest!"

"Jesting does not become you," Eomer said, "That you should know."

Aragorn nodded, "I agree. I am merely saying your fawning has not gone unnoticed."

Gimli was on his tenth cup, if the pile of mugs in front of the dwarf was anything to go by. The elf was going at a steady pace, however, stealing odd glances at the cup then his hands.

"Surely, you speak of my sister," Eomer said.

"It is precious," Aragorn laughed, "how you avoid the subject. He doesn't bite."

Eomer ducked his head, averting his gaze for his face was surely burning. Sure, what Aragorn said was true; it was his first time meeting an elf and sure, said elf was beautiful, possibly moreso than any maiden he had wooed in his past, but they had only interacted once- on bad footing, at that. Looking around at his soldiers, Eomer could see a few Men of Rohan had not let the elf's presence go unnoticed, a few openly staring at the elf during the night.

"Are you.... certain he would deign to accept?" Eomer suggested as quietly as he could should someone overhear.

"As certain as I love Arwen, my friend," Aragorn clapped him on the shoulder, "you've nothing to fear."

Well. If Aragorn put it that way, then surely he could put himself forth. The two men settled to watch more of their companion's drinking game, Legolas having slowly caught up to Gimli; even under the harsh flame of the tavern light, Legolas managed to glow, his hair shining gold to complement smooth alabaster skin. 

"I...I feel something," Legolas announced, twisting in his chair to look at Aragorn and Eomer, "A slight tingling sensation...in my fingers-"

"HA! Elf can't hold 'is liquor!" Gimli cackled madly, jabbing stubby fingers into Legolas's arm. His red beard was matted with slick white foam, eyes threatening to cross as he tried to look into his cup, "Told ya! Dwarves are superi- uuuurp!"

Eomer gawked, "Is he serious?"

Aragorn shrugged, "Legolas told me that Elven alcohol is much different."

"I'll bet a few chickens on that, my friend," Eomer chuckled as he watched Legolas grin broadly down at the dwarf, clinking their cups as a child might to imitate their parents at a party. "Cheeks look quite rosy from here."

A crow of laughter from Gimli, something about the superiority of the dwarven race, and the fellow was bowled iver backwards, passed out drunk with delight. Legolas sat primly on the bench, looking around before finally settling his gaze on Eomer before cheekily announcing "I win!"

"Indeed," Aragorn nodded, "I shall take the Master Dwarf to his bed- does that suit you, mellon-nin?"

Legolas beamed, swaying slightly as he bud Aragorn farewell and Eomer found himself alone with a now tipsy elf, despite the tavern still being so crowded it might burst. 

"Master Eomer, please!" Legolas gestured to the now open seat next to him, "if you would be so kind, I would appreciate the company."

Eomer was surprised to hear himself bark out a laugh as he slid onto the bench, "Was the dwarf not enough for you?"

"Is it normal for my tongue to feel funny?" Legolas blurted.

"Funny?" Eomer echoed.

Legolas nodded, "I've never experienced this before- human ale is quite unlike our own-"

"You seem quite well to me, Master Elf," Eomer offered, unsure if what to say. He could feel Aragorn's eyes on him and he turnex to see the man carting out the dwarf with the help of the barmaid- Aragorn had even had the adudacity to wink before disappearing out the door!

"My name is Legolas!" the elf hurried to introduce himself, worda blurred slightly and wow, a drunk elf was certainly not something Eomer thought he would ever have to deal with. Drunken idiots or his own men, he knew how to handle, but an elf? He didn't know where to start.

Obviously, "drunk" to an elf was more subtle, as Legolas was still able to speak coherently. Up close, Eomer could see there were no scars upon Legolas's face, no blemish to be seen and his cheeks were tinged the tell-tale pink of inebriation. 

Eomer would never admit to himself that this was cute, Aragorn or Eowyn would never let him hear the end of it- Eowyn would likely blow a horn to let all of Rohan know her brother, heir to the throne had fallen in love!

"My father would likely quip that I'm embarassing him," Legolas giggled, "fraternizing with a dwarf! With men!"

Eomer raised an eyebrow, allowing Legolas to bump into him as he leaned over to whisper in his ear, although the elf's lips fell close to the skin, barely brushing the shell.

"My father can take his ideas and... and...." Legolas fell into a small fit of giggles, although he was somehow still able to keep a regal air about him.

"And what may your father do, Legolas?" Eomer prompted under his breath.

"I don't know, but to Mordor with what he thinks, yes?" Legolas sighed and Eomer jolted with the sudden weight that was Legolas's head on his shoulder, "Upon my travels I have learned that dwarves and men are not so bad, and we shouldn't be blamed for what our fathers did."

Eomer found he didn't know what to say. The sound of the Hobbits dancing and singing had died down, the four of them staggering their way to the door. Even the Hobbits had noticed Legolas, Merry and Pippin whistling and hooting in their direction before Eomer waved them off. 

"I hope-" Legolas let out a tiny hiccup, almost inaudible as he tried to cover it with a dainty hand, "- that my father can understand you men aren't so bad. Like Estel- or you, Ser Eomer. Despite our firsy encounter... you are a good man. An honorable man, as honorable as any Elf of Mirkwood."

Heaving a sigh, Eomer tried (and failed) to ignore the hammering in his chest as Legolas pressed himself close, long hair falling elegantly across his face and tickling Eomer's nose. He could smell lavender and sandalwood and something distinctly earthy, and for a moment, Eomer was transported to Mirkwood itself, until a large thunking sound brought Eomer back to reality- Legolas had fallen from his shoulder and was now laying across the bench.

Upon closer inspection, Eomer found the elf was asleep, chest rising and falling in time with his pulse, as Eomer was afraid the elf had somehow fallen ill. 

"I see he has finally succumbed to drink," Aragorn's voice startled Eomer, the man looking down fondly at his friend. He looked tired, skin freshly scrubbed and eyes drooping ever so slightly.

"I must admit, I've never witnessed elven drunkeness," Eomer said, daring to smooth Legolas's hair where it had bunched around his neck, tucking it softly behind pointed ears. 

"Yes, it is quite simple," Aragorn said mostly to himself, "Come. I shall help you put him to bed."

In one sweeping motion, Eomer ignored Aragorn's waiting arms to clutch the elf close to his chest, one hand around his back while the other went under his knees. Legolas's head rested with his nose in the crook of Eomer's neck, and Aragorn gave him a teasing smile as he stepped back, beckoning him to follow.

"Follow me, Eomer," Aragorn said, "the prince's room is this way."

It wasn't until he had tucked the elf into bed and followed Aragorn down the hall to their own rooms that he realized what Aragorn had said.

"Wait-" Eomer sputtered, jolting upright in the middle of the night, "Legolas is a prince?!"

"Yes, yes, now please, rest," Aragorn rolled in his own bed across the room, "we've an early ride at dawn."

And so Eomer went back to sleep, face burning anew at the fact that only just an hour ago he had witnessed fellow royalty discover the joys of alcohol and allowed them to fall asleep in his lap.

The next morning, Legolas had the horses set up for the Fellowship and himself, and Eomer rode ahead to keep up with the elf that ran ahead on nimble feet, blond hair flowing freely like a beacon upon the green rolling hills of Rohan. 

**Author's Note:**

> I finished rewatching the trilogy last night but it's been a while so apologies if anything seems out of charactet


End file.
